


I Can Hear The Bells

by thebirthofvenus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Draco/Harry, No character bashing, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform, Tom/Bellatrix but not really, Unreliable Narrator, Wedding Planner!Harry, single parent!Harry, they don't cheat, unresolved past conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:39:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebirthofvenus/pseuds/thebirthofvenus
Summary: “Hello, Potter Weddings. Your vision, your wedding - you'll have it your way.”A wheeze sounded over the phone, “Sounds like Burger King.”Harry was a wedding planner who couldn’t even keep his own marriage. Like a chef who burned his dishes. But here he was anyway. If his own marriage couldn’t last, he’d make sure other couples get their own happily ever after, starting with a memorable event. Having a long, bitter history with the new client’s fiancé and Harry’s ex-boyfriend, though? That kind of complicates the happy ending.





	I Can Hear The Bells

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Bellatrix is younger than Tom and Harry. Albus Potter doesn't have Severus as his middle name, nor does Lily Potter have Luna as hers. Any other AU changes will be mentioned in the chapters. This fic is inspired by the movies “Maid in Manhattan”, “The Wedding Planner”, and the song “Mamma Mia” by ABBA. There was also a sterek fic I read a long time back that really struck a match, but I think it’s gone now.

“Merlin’s balls,” Harry hissed when he slipped on the wet floor.

His butt landed on the small pool of butterbeer. He mentally cursed himself for forgetting to clean that up before he came waltzing out with a tray of food and drinks.

Harry stared morosely at the barbeque wings and potato strips and pumpkin juice mocktails and… and really everything else the birthday party at table 7 ordered. He winced, feeling bad because now he’ll have to go back to the kitchens and tell Dobby to make it all over again.

Harry gestured for the enchanted dustpan, brush, and mop and had it clean the wasted spill and broken glass.

He went back towards the staff doors, tray cradled in his arms like he was hiding a secret-… oh, yeah he was hiding a secret. Sirius was going to kill him. How much did Harry just drop? Almost six galleons worth of food and drinks.

‘’Harry Potter, sir,’’ Dobby’s head poked out from behind the inner office’s door. ‘’Yous uncle called.’’

Sirius knew. Somehow, from miles away, his godfather’s pub-owner-senses tingled and told him-

‘’Harry Potter must hurry. You is supposed to be at Zoopin’s party, sir. That’s what he said, sir.’’

Yes. That was exactly- ‘’What’s a- who’s Zoopin?’’

“Mister Zoopin, the one with the extra special time of the month.”

‘’Morgana, the wedding! _Tempus._ ” Numbers floated to show it was 1:14PM. Less than half an hour until guests arrived.

Harry quickly untied his work apron and tossed it onto the office chair. No wonder he was a little off and distracted. That itch under his skin was because he wasn’t keeping track of the time.

Luna had assured him earlier that morning that everything was running smoothly. From A-Z on the list - the attendees, bridesmaids, and cake to the much needed zzz’s - all Harry had painstakingly planned these last four months with Remus and Tonks were in place. Harry trusted Luna, which was why he attended his morning shift at Sirius’ pub, Moonshine.

“Dobby, table 7 needs a re-do of their order. Come to me if anything urgent happens.”

Harry hurriedly changed into his other clothes, “Oh and no matter what, don’t let the birthday girl at table 7 order firewhiskey.” He pulled his formal robes over his head with a bit of struggle. “I’ve been in her shoes and I can smell an aging potion from a mile away. Sirius can’t afford the Ministry giving us another warning ticket for underage drinking.” He paused in the middle of shoving his feet into his fancier shoes. “But I won’t say no if her older friends buys a bottle and takes it home instead. Just. Not under our roof, Dobby.”

The elf nodded like he was given all the keys to Gringotts and received orders to guard, “Understood, sir.”

 

* * *

 

 Sirius stood up, clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention. From where Harry stood - not too far but not too close to warrant attention - he placed the tip of his wand against his vocal cords just as Sirius was going to give his best man speech.

“ _Sermo_ ,” he whispered the spell and Harry spoke into the connection, his voice relaying through his godfather’s earpiece, “Sirius, you’ll do just swimmingly. Repeat every word after me… ‘Every now and then…’”

Sirius grinned, easy and open as he took in the crowd. He started his speech, copying Harry’s words.

 “Every now and then we get such a rare opportunity to speak of a man who is-” Remus raised a brow and gave his friend a smile that was equal parts  amused and a warning. “-intelligent, witty, charming, and good looking – but I really shouldn’t talk about myself. This day is about Remus and Tonks’ wedding.”

Tonks laughed with the crowd, nudging her new husband who simply rolled his eyes.

The rest of the speech went well, the joke had relaxed everyone into a pleasant mood. Sirius briefly met Harry's eyes from across the ballroom and winked in thanks. He raised his drink in the air to toast.

"To Remus and Tonks! I'm happy for ya, Moony," he grinned and tossed back his drink.

The room echoed the action, applause and congratulatory cheers erupting in the air. Remus and Tonks leaned into each other, smiling happily. Seeing his closest friends like that reminded Harry that he bloody loved his main career.

Now that the speech was over, Harry internally sighed in relief.

“ _Sermo apsolutus_ ,” he removed the connection and put on his work mic.

He made his way to the back of the ballroom, wanting to check in on the food. Luna's soft voice immediately came in through his earpiece, sounding a bit distressed.

''Harry, the twins said they dropped some U-No-Poo pills in the drinks. But they can't remember which one! They know it's in the second batch, but there's almost a hundred glasses, Harry, I-''

"You just fed the best man his speech."

Harry turned at the amused voice and saw a woman who was almost the same height as him, Luna’s distress fading into background noise.

The woman’s voluminous, dark curly hair framed her pale face and she was dressed in, to Harry's mild surprise, quite a conservative looking black dress, with long sleeves and the length covering her legs. Despite it, she had a very _Tell-Me-About-It-Stud_ air to her.

Standing beside her was another woman with platinum blond hair, tied in a loose ponytail draped over one shoulder. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, and the vibe she gave off was as though she was ready to divorce anyone on sight. The first woman was watching Harry with a haughty, wide smirk.

Luna continued to panic in his earpiece.

“Calm down, Luna. I'll take care of it,” he replied, and addressed the women in front of him, ‘’You could tell?’’

‘’Dearie, you were mouthing the words a second before he said them. If I was an uppy-tighty auror, I’d accuse you of using an imperio on the man.”

"Sirius wrote the speech himself. He simply didn’t want to stumble and mess up, so I recited it to him by heart."

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry couldn't remember either of their faces from the list of invited guests, nor their confirmed plus ones.

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

"Distant relative of the bride,” then, dryly, “Sirius is my cousin. I wasn't invited to dear, ickle Nymphadora's wedding. I'm here because I was... curious. Wanted to see how a-" she looked around the humble hall with a pinched look. "-normal one looks like. And I must say I'm quite impressed by what I see."

A black business card appeared in her hand out of nowhere. He took the card, feeling the matte finish; her name and contact details shimmered on the material in a deep gold: BELLATRIX BLACK. When he held it at an angle, the text almost disappeared.

"I'm getting married in three months, and I need someone who's good at what they do in presenting a wedding such as... this." A plate of finger foods floated past them and he could have sworn she sneered a little. "Specially one such as this."

Harry pocketed the card and briefly scanned the ballroom for any other guests he couldn't recognise.

"Is your fiancé with you to discuss this or?"

She shook her head, "No, he's too occupied with work. It's a very busy time for him right now. He said he'll leave it all to me." Bellatrix didn't seem too upset about it, but rather, honoured? ''He trusts me to do this, see.''

"Well, most grooms are N.I.Ds. Not-Into-Details."

Bellatrix cackled, "That's my lor- fiancé all right. If it's work, he'd know everything right down to the last detail. But not with this, no."

He pocketed the black card, he had no time to entertain potential clients right now.

“'Ms. Bellatrix, I'm currently on duty and I'm afraid I can't talk to you about your wedding at the moment. I assure you my assistant will contact you as soon as possible to discuss things.''

''How long will it take?'' She asked, seemingly unused to being refused. ''My _wedding_ is in three months,'' she emphasized, as if they were already in a contract and Harry was fucking it all up.

He was beginning to have half a mind to refuse her now with how rude she was being.

The blonde woman finally made her presence known. She placed a hand on Bellatrix’s shoulder.

''Mr. Potter already said he'll contact us when he can. If he doesn't call us by tomorrow, that’s his decision.”

“But, Cissy he said-”

‘Cissy’ gave Bellatrix a pointed look. ''I'm sure other wedding planners will be more than thrilled to take us.'' There was an unspoken ‘other, _smarter_ wedding planners’.

Harry felt like he was missing out on something. He tried to come off as amiable as possible, ''I can't guarantee tomorrow, but maybe sometime next week...''

He was going to take his son Albus shopping at Diagon Alley tomorrow. He had saved enough these last six months, and with the money he got from Remus and Tonk's wedding, he could afford to buy Al’s second-year home-schooling books.

He couldn’t buy them before because Al fell from a tree playing monkeys with his sister Lily and their muggle friends, fracturing his arm. It would have looked suspicious if they had gone to St. Mungo's and his bones were fixed the next day. They had to use the muggle method, so Albus soldiered through a broken arm and a thick cast for almost five weeks.

The muggle method wasn't just slow, it also meant more expenses.

_''Why not just get your arm healed and pretend to wear the cast?'' Sirius had asked._

_''My arm is going to be all moist and stiff inside, anyway.''_

_''Ha! Last night, there was something else moist and stiff-''_

_Harry jumped in immediately, hands blocking his son's ears who blinked owlishly, ''Continue that sentence and I'll use your bed for my next hook-up. In many positions.''_

_Sirius shut up._

Then, there was the issue of the car, which he had named after his old Firebolt, breaking down in the middle of the road three months ago. No way Harry was going to commute in London when he had multiple shops to visit across the city. Some things were just cheaper in muggle stores.

The blonde pursed her lips in displeasure before perking up with an embarrassed laugh, ''Oh, where are my manners. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter, I'm Narcissa,'' she shook his hand. ''Narcissa Malfoy.''

Harry's brain did a record scratch.

Malfoy. As in, one of the families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight _Malfoy_?

Harry, oh so stupidly, asked, ''Um, you don't happen to have any relation to-''

''Lucius Malfoy? Yes, he is my husband,'' she said, despite her subtle smile it was almost too shark-like. As though she knew the galleons flashing in his head, a la Mr. Krabbs. ''Bellatrix is my sister.''

Oh, Merlin.

He was talking to Lucius Malfoy's wife. And her sister was interested in Harry planning her wedding.

The Malfoy family could be it - his ticket into a wealthier client pool. Having the Malfoys in his portfolio would be big. If word got out that the Malfoy family or hell any of the Sacred Twenty-Eights attended a wedding Harry organised, he would get invaluable PR. He could boost his prices, get better florists and caterers and all that jazz.

If Harry increased the costs of his services, he would be able to get him and his kids a proper house out of Grimmauld Place. He might even be able to send Albus and Lily to proper wizarding schools. His kids could go to Hogwarts, or Beauxbatons maybe. Al’s French was getting better ever since he started studying under Fleur. His son needed the distraction from other… less favoured tongues.

''You ladies heard of me through Tonks?''

At her name, Narcissa looked like someone just put dung under her nose, “Not really.”

''Harry,'' Luna's urgent voice came in through the earpiece. He almost forgot. ''The first batch is almost out. The next round of drinks will be going around soon.''

“I’ll be there in a minute, Luna.” Then, to Bellatrix, “Did someone else recommend me?”

“I saw photos of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding announcement in the Daily Prophet several months ago. Your name was mentioned as the planner.”

He blinked. At first, he wondered why Bill and Fleur’s wedding made it to the newspaper, but then he remembered that the Weasleys were technically part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Time spent with Ron and his kin had Harry forgetting that detail.

The Weasleys were often looked down upon by the more snobbish families. It made Harry smile to hear that it was a Weasley wedding that encouraged a pureblood like Bellatrix to seek him out.

"Harry Potter, you listen to me!" Luna approached them with a hurry to her usually airy steps. "I really think you need to do something about-"

Now that he thought of the Weasleys…

"Make it a drinking roulette, Luna," he said quickly, softly enough that the other two women won't hear. "Make a sign, an announcement, anything. Keep a separate table for the spiked drinks. Make it clear it's a game sponsored by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes so that the guests are aware there's a chance they'll grab a bad drink. Assure them the next round will be free of surprises."

Luna nodded and spoke into her mic, swiftly relaying the instructions back to the elves working the kitchen and bar.

He returned his attention to Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"This is my amazing assistant, Luna. I don’t know where I’ll be without her,'' he said, and Luna shook their hands, a soft smile on her face.

‘’Nice to meet you, I’m Luna Lovegood.’’

The nearest table suddenly rattled, surprising the seated guests. Harry’s eyes darted in its direction.

''Excuse me, ladies."

Harry leaned down and felt under the table cloth. Baby teeth closed on one of his fingers and Harry swore colourfully. He dragged out a toddler girl with bright ginger hair, hazel eyes, and freckles, and a young boy with messy dark hair and green eyes.

"And these two are my children, Albus and Lily. Who shouldn't be crawling on the floor, swimming in dust bunnies.''

He quickly reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out his wand, vanishing away the dust and dirt from their clothes. The little girl squirmed while the boy coughed into his suit sleeve.

''What did I say about biting, Lily?''

''It hurts people. Sorry papa,'' she said.

Albus chewed on his lower lip and explained, ''Lily saw a shiny beetle on the floor and she wanted to catch it. It went under the table.''

Luna nodded, reaching over to grab an unused water glass and handing it to him, ''Here. Catches better than your hands. You're lucky it's only a beetle and not a narg-''

''There it is!'' Lily squealed excitedly and pointed to a glimmering, golden speck moving on the floor.

She scurried off in its direction. His ex-wife Ginny probably shouldn’t have introduced Quidditch to their youngest so early. Lily took to the seeker position like a natural, much like her old man.

Narcissa raised a brow, backing away as if the boy might bite her, too. "Is their mother here with you? You look like you could use a hand.''

"Their mum is... not in the picture," he said, hoping they won't pry. Let them interpret it how they wish. ''Al, make sure Lily won't bite anyone else.''

His son nodded and followed his sister.

Narcissa gave him a sympathetic look, "Your wife passed?"

Welp, no way around it then.

"No, she and I divorced years ago." Harry winced, knowing how this might look like. A wedding planner who couldn't even handle his own marriage? It was like a professional chef who kept burning his dishes. "But you know that saying, ‘Those who _can_ \- _do_ , and those who _can't_ \- _teach'_? Well, those who can't wed - plan,” he said with a boyish smile.

Narcissa smiled politely while Bellatrix did nothing to hide how unimpressed she looked. Harry could feel them steadily losing confidence in him.

 _No,_ Harry thought. He was not going to botch this.

He turned to Luna and stage-whispered to her, "By the way, before I forget, could you gather the Greengrass files, so I can take a look at it later?"

Luna blinked innocently at him. She caught the sisters' interested perk then _ooh-ed._

"Right. Will do, Harry." She conjured an inked quill and a piece of parchment, making a quick jot as a reminder. Something caught her attention through the earpiece, “Please excuse me.”

Then she left to attend to whatever it was. If it was anything serious, she would have told him.

"Greengrass?" Narcissa asked with a new gleam in her eyes. "Does it have anything to do with Daphne Greengrass-"

Harry smiled politely. "I'm afraid that's confidential, Mrs. Malfoy."

Daphne Greengrass was the most prominent name he took in as a client. The Greengrass family were also a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Unfortunately, he couldn’t add Daphne’s wedding to his portfolio. Officially, she was still a bachelorette. She had married a muggle woman in secret, much to her blood purist parents’ disdain, and Harry was the one who planned their private wedding. Rustic and fairy-tale themed, held in an open-air ceremony by the woods in Cornwall. One of the easiest and most aesthetically pleasing weddings he’d done. Daphne allowed Harry to name-drop her for his advantage, and he would give her a 3% referral fee each time. He never used her name unless he wanted to convince harder clients and businesses that his services were as good as any.

The sisters shared a look, some wordless communication passing between them.

“Is it possible for you to contact us within the week, Mr. Potter?” Bellatrix asked.

“Yeah, give me at least three working days to get back to you.”

They seemed appeased by his answer.

Narcissa nodded, “We’ll be looking forward to your call. Good day, I hope you enjoy the rest of the wedding.”

“You’re not staying? Tonks is over there if you’d like to wish her,” he said, mostly out of politeness. They were still her relatives, and they were already here anyway. But Harry wasn’t going to insist.

Narcissa waved her hand, “It’s quite alright, we only came here to speak with you. Bella and I have a prior engagement.”

“Do pass on my well wishes to Nymphadora,” Bellatrix said.

When the sisters left, it registered to Harry that he felt parched from Sirius’ speech and the conversation. He grabbed a drink from the refreshments table and drank it. Harry was halfway through the glass when he suddenly remembered.

The U-No-Poo pills.

“Shit.”

Later, he would laugh at the irony.

 

* * *

 

 If you had told Harry twelve years ago that one day he would become a wedding planner, well, he’d ask if you ate something funny from the twins’ joke shop. Twelve years ago was a different time. A different him, different interests, a different love.

Harry genuinely enjoyed his present career. He had always been good at it - leading and planning. He liked the urgency and rush that came on the days leading up to the wedding, as well as the day itself. The look of thankful relief whenever he would swoop in to right a problem felt so gratifying. In those few minutes, he felt like a hero on someone’s very special day. He simply enjoyed making people happy.

The problem was, he just couldn't get access to a more reputable clientele. His portfolio was full of backyards, pubs, and three star-hotel ballroom weddings for his friends and other working folk. Business was hard these days and he couldn’t increase his prices with this portfolio. Not that Harry wanted all his customers to be upper class people. He simply needed some clout. The Greengrass name helped him push stubborn clients, but it was never on paper. Now, the _Malfoy_ name could open so many doors.

In another life, Harry would have entered a different field. Perhaps something similar where his planning and leadership skills were put to use. Like law-enforcement. But he had two children to think about.

What would happen to Al and Lily if one day he got injured - or worse - out there? The divorce was one thing - he and Ginny were handling it well and so were the kids - but to have a dead parent? He couldn’t do that to them.

He had considered teaching, but he already had his hands full with home-schooling Albus and Lily.

When they all reached home at Grimmauld Place, Harry broke the news to Sirius while they were brewing tea in the kitchen.

“So, who’s the bride?”

“You won’t believe this, but Narcissa Malfoy’s sister-’’

The kettle rattled as Sirius set it down.

“Bellatrix,” Sirius growled. A rare look of apprehension crossed his face before it sombered.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. “She said she’s your cousin?”

He sighed, suddenly looking older than he was.

“Unfortunately, we are.”

“I’m guessing you’re not on good terms with her.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Never liked that bitch in my life.”

“Oi, language,” Harry glared at him and peered over his shoulder. He relaxed when he saw that his daughter had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Sirius chuckled, “You look like your dad, but parenthood turned you into your mum.”

It was a subtle try at deflection.

“You were saying about Bellatrix?”

“She’s… not like me. She was never shy on being vocal about what she thought of muggles and muggleborns and really anything that had to do with blood-mixing where wizards were concerned.”

From their interaction this afternoon, Harry had a feeling. It was either that or she was just a snob, “So she’s a blood purist?”

“In her ideals, yes. But to my knowledge she hasn’t yet been involved in anything extreme,” Sirius set his mug down, a warning in his voice. “Harry, if you take Bellatrix as your client, chances are you’re going to be running into her own circle of psychopaths. I’m worried for you.”

Yet Bellatrix and Narcissa sought him out personally.

“She said she found out about me from Bill’s wedding. And I’m not exactly quiet about my own standpoints. You’d think a blood purist would find a different wedding planner, not a halfblood like me.” Even to his own ears he sounded defensive.

“What are you getting out of this if you take her as your client?”

“I’ve thought about it. Connections. Money. It’ll help my business. With this, Albus and Lily might be able to attend Hogwarts, not cooped up firing spells in the living room."

Frustration crossed his godfather's face before it was replaced with a sombre expression.

''Look, Prongslet, I'm not going to force you _not_ to take Bellatrix as your client. It’s your job. I'm just going to give you some advice: Bellatrix's side of the family is... bad news. I’ve told you about the Black family madness.’’

Harry nodded. He’d been told of it. Crazy shit because of bad blood.

“In the times I’ve known her, which I’ve tried to limit as much as possible, she’d been showing signs of it.”

“You think she’ll do something dangerous?”

He had a wry smile, “Bellatrix is always dangerous. Like I said, I’m worried you might get hurt. If she knows you had a muggleborn parent… if she hurts you… I might do something that’ll earn me a one-way ticket to Azkaban.”

Harry snorted, “Sirius Black? Getting caught? Seems like one of the Marauders is losing his touch.”

His godfather nudged Harry’s leg with his boot, “Oi.”

They sipped their tea in silence, until Sirius glanced at the copy of the Daily Prophet sitting on the counter.

“Speaking of blood purists,” he shook his head. “Seems that wacko Voldemort is still recruiting for his insane club.”

Harry drank some more, trying to push back that sudden lump in his throat, “Oh?”

“If there was any trouble Bellatrix would get into, that’s just the right type of bastard she’d associate with. I can’t believe the ministry still hasn’t figured out who Voldemort is.”

Harry shrugged, “It’s wrong, but it’s still freedom of speech.”

“Freedom to hate, you mean. Blood purists will only hang around others with the same agenda.”

Right. Only blood purists. Harry took a long sip of his tea.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Sirius and Albus bundled down the stairs, stopping when they saw Harry teaching Lily math in the kitchen. Muggle kindergarten textbooks were open on the table. Lily’s face had been scrunched up while she was trying to figure out her numbers.

''Hey Harry, I'm going to take Al to Diagon Alley to buy his things.''

Lily’s eyes lit up, wordlessly begging her uncle to take her too and free her from subtractions.

Albus coughed into his sleeve, eyes all watery. Yesterday’s cold had gotten worse and chasing after his energetic sister didn’t help. He leaned over his dad's shoulder, his face warm where it pressed against Harry's cheeks.

''Sure, but...'' Harry frowned, attention on his son. ''How are you feeling, Al?''

'''M fine,'' he said into his dad's shoulder.

''Sirius can pick up your stuff for you. You and I can just go when you're feeling a lot better.''

He shook his head, voice slow and a little groggy, ''No... it’s the first day of the summer sale. I want to see what else I need to buy while the stocks are still there. They’ll be gone off the shelves by the time we come back again.’’

Sirius grabbed his satchel, ''Al's cold is getting worse. We'll stop by St. Mungo's first to make him feel better.''

''Thanks, Sirius. Eat something warm outside, you two.’’

Harry followed them and leaned against the hallway, waving goodbye as Sirius and Albus put on their shoes by the door, the old floorboards creaking in protest. He watched his son’s little frame shake from another coughing fit. When they were gone, he grabbed a snack to give to Lily. He set down a plate of biscuits and a glass of apple juice. Peeking at her notebook, he was glad to see she got the answer right.

After they finished studying math, Lily took a nap. She immediately passed out on the sofa, limbs askew just like how Albus used to sleep when he was younger.

It won't be long before Lily followed Al in his magical studies. How long should they keep this up?

Harry decided. He needed this client.

That was why, later that evening when Sirius had gone to his night shift at the pub, Harry floo-called Bellatrix from the living room.

Her high-pitched voice picked up before her face came through, body-less and surrounded by licks of green flames, "Yes, Bellatrix Black speaking." The woman gave a loud ecstatic cackle and Harry had to briefly wince away. Her attention darted elsewhere, "Draco! Not that tie, nephikins, it looks disgusting. Now, where was I?"

Harry cleared his throat, adopting his best professional tone. He almost couldn't hear over his rabbit heartbeat, feeling slightly guilty for doing this despite Sirius’ warnings.

"Hello, Ms. Bellatrix, this is Harry Potter. From Tonk- err, Nymphadora's wedding? You wished to speak to me about your upcoming wedding."

''Oh, yes. The wedding planner. Well, what do you want? Hurry, speak up," she snapped.

 _Bear with it, Harry. It's the pre-wedding mood swings._ He dealt with worse bridezillas.

''I wanted to say it would be my pleasure to build your dream around you - and your fiancé. That is, if you're still searching for a wedding planner."

''Fantastic,'' she purred, the flames licking her floating face seemed to flare in glee. ''How soon can you start?"

''Wait, I haven't told you my prices yet.''

''Then how much do you charge?'' Bellatrix asked impatiently. ''Are ten galleons an hour sufficient?''

Harry nearly choked, his mind already calculating the numbers. Ten. This woman believed his acceptable hourly rate was ten galleons.

If he was going to be meeting Bellatrix for, say, three hours a day, Harry would be earning thirty per session.

Holy shit, he was going to earn a hundred and twenty a week, so in three months until D-Day - the actual wedding - he would receive nearly a thousand and four hundred galleons. Harry felt like he was going to vomit. That number never crossed his life, ever. At least, not in galleons.

"Ten... uh, ten is good. Err, I don't work on Fridays to Sundays." That was his bonding time with his children, and at night he had full shifts at the pub. "And Ms. Bellatrix, I know you said your fiancé wanted to leave the planning up to you, but I do recommend he joined us often. It would make your wedding day even more special to know you both planned it together."

She hummed, thinking it over. "I'll check with him, he's a very busy man you see, I’m sure you’ve heard of him. His name’s Ri- nephikins! Morgana’s sake, you’d look much more handsome if you removed all that hair product. Mr. Potter, I want to meet tomorrow, how does brunch at The Claridge Inn at 1PM sound?''

Harry could barely fight the grin on his face.

''Brilliant, I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Bellatrix.''

Saying that felt like it was final.

No sooner had the floo-call ended, Harry was jumping and whooping in the air. He crossed into the kitchen where his children were helping themselves to leftovers for dinner.

With a tissue, Albus was dabbing at some spaghetti sauce on his sister’s cheek, “You’re such a mess.” He looked up, his face a lot less pale compared to earlier that morning. “You seem happy. Got a new client?”

''Yep,'' he grinned, helping himself to his own plate. ''Except after this wedding is over, you’ll be able to attend Hogwarts.”

Albus stood up so abruptly the dining table rattled. Lily screamed when his glass of milk nearly spilled on her dinner.

His green eyes were wide and disbelieving, ''No way…”

“Yes-way. Also, what do you think of your own bedroom, Al? Since we could be moving out, too.’’

His jaw dropped, “No way, dad.”

''All right, since you said no...'' he shrugged.

''No! I meant, yes - I meant. Ugh, _dad_ ,'' he groaned when he caught Harry's cheeky smile. ''Of course I want my own room.''

"I want my own room, too!" Lily yelled with her mouth full, bits of pasta spraying.

" _You_ get a room, and _you_ get a room!" He pointed at them like Oprah.

"I want my own bookshelf," said Albus. "And a big bed. I don’t want to share with Lily.”

"I want a ballerina race car bed," she said, little legs swinging excitedly under the table.

Harry chuckled and went over to plant a fond kiss on her cheek, "Even better - we'll make it a ballerina _dinosaur_ race car bed.”

At the sound of his children's delighted laughter, landing this client was the best decision Harry ever made.

 

* * *

 

“Lily spit it out. Oh my god, spit it out!’’

His daughter scrambled into the perfectly Lily-sized hole in the wall Sirius _should_ have patched up last weekend. She giggled around the locket in her mouth, escaping her dad’s swiping arm. He was too bloomin’ big to fit in there.

Harry had no idea how Lily found that locket. It was octagon-shaped, had an S-curve design, and a silver chain. His breath had hitched at the sight of it. Old memories sparked across his mind, lighting up long-closed doors before he quickly put it out to chase after a squealing five-year-old who seemed hellbent on becoming a Niffler.

Until now the necklace was kept in the attic, collecting dust in one of the old moving boxes. She probably had been playing around upstairs again, tormenting that wrinkly, rude elf Kreacher who loved to hole himself up in the attic.

“Lily, baby, please,’’ Harry urged. ‘’If you come out and stop-’’ _slobbering_ , eugh ‘’- chewing daddy’s necklace, I promise you can have your play date with Hugo until four.’’

She spat out the drool-coated locket.

“Six!’’ She held out five fingers.

“Four-thirty.’’

“Five!’’

“Deal, five p.m. but no more than that. Now c’mere, you little menace.’’

Lily giggled and crawled out of the hole, cobwebs catching on her bright pumpkin hair. Harry carried her in one of his arms and took the necklace from her hands. It felt warm - and mostly wet - to the touch, and he stomped down the odd, familiar feeling of _right_ whenever he was near the trinket.

Harry pocketed it in his jeans. He would put it away later.

For now he needed to make Lily presentable for her play date with Hugo before he met up with Bellatrix later. Sirius had gone to Moonshine for his shift and Albus was with Luna for charms lessons.

“Dirty little monkey,’’ he said fondly, going upstairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we go to auntie Hermione and uncle Ron’s house.’’

“Unka Ron! Bloody hell!” She squealed, and Harry paused on the staircase.

“…God, I hope Hermione’s home today.”

 

* * *

 

 At twelve thirty, Harry floo’d from his best friends’ house to Diagon Alley, weaving through the crowds until the familiar high-end shopping district turned even more polished.

The streets transitioned into the next district, the fairly new and shiny Zontic Alley. It was the recently made destination for the pureblood snobs who didn’t want to shop with other halfbloods and muggleborns.

But Zontic Alley’s stores, restaurants, and hotels were just way more expensive. Unless a halfblood or muggle born had a purse as big as the heads of the egoistic lot, they had no chance of purchasing anything from there. Not that Harry cared really. Everything was priced starting from the high galleons. He and his wallet preferred Diagon Alley any day.

The location Bellatrix had in mind wasn’t that hard to find. The Claridge Inn - not to be mistaken as the Magical Britain equivalent for the muggle hotel with a similar name - was decked out in a Venetian Gothic style. It was a blend of tasteful, classic period features and modern designs. It had high ceilings, opulent chandeliers, and the walls were made of mahogany, with pillars that were connected with finely crafted arches. There were rich, dark wood furniture, and live music being played from a beautiful grand piano situated in the lobby.

Elves expertly moved around the place without being a hindrance, there when needed but otherwise invisible. One of the elves approached him with a silver tray carrying crystal cut flutes, a gold bow wrapped around each one.

‘’Refreshments, sir? We has alcoholic and non-alcoholic.’’

Feeling the need to calm the sudden butterflies in his stomach, Harry reached out for one with water in it, ‘’Yes, please.’’ He took quick gulps then placed the empty glass back on the tray. ‘’Which way is the drawing room?’’

‘’Is to your left, down the corridor on the second right, sir.’’

‘’Got it. Thank you very much.’’

The elf’s eyes widened, unused to a display of gratitude.

‘’Y-you’re welcome, sir.’’

Harry followed the instructions, past the first right that lead to a door marked as _Meeting Hall,_ where he believed the fiancé must be in at the moment. A minor shudder crawled up his back, but he chalked it up to the cold hallway. He felt a jolt of anticipation spread through him like map lines, but it was gone when he exited the hallway.

The hotel’s drawing room was wall-to-wall in creams and dark mahogany. Multiple long, arched windows lined the walls, allowing for lots of natural sunlight. There were leather sofas, lush throw pillows, and tables decorated with floral centrepieces. Most of the guests lounging were dressed in smart robes and high-end apparel, no doubt coming from affluent families or self-made money from Magical Britain and around the globe.

Harry wondered if he should have at least borrowed something from his godfathers, rather than coming in in a burgundy dress shirt and black denims he fished out of a sale bin at Marks & Spencer. Merlin, perhaps he should have joined Al yesterday and bought something from Madam Malkin’s. Out of habit, he pushed up his glasses with his fingers.

He was contemplating making a quick run back home to change, when a high, sickly sweet voice called his name.

“Mr. Potteeer,” sang Bellatrix.

She was seated by the windows, waving at him with her fingers. Some of the guests turned their heads, no doubt familiar with who Bellatrix Black was.

Too late. Harry subconsciously fixed any invisible crumples on his shirt.

“Sorry, were you waiting long?” He asked as they shook hands. He slotted himself opposite her.

“Not long, I just finished having a talk with the owner. Mr. Potter- ‘’

‘’Please, call me Harry.’’

He could have sworn the corner of her mouth ticced, but he chalked it up to his simmering anxiety. Harry felt like a fish out of water here. He didn’t want Bellatrix to see that he felt slightly intimidated.

‘’Harry, I discussed with my fiancé about it, and he said he’ll be joining us soon after his morning meeting.’’

‘’Brilliant,’’ he said. “What time will his meeting end?”

She glanced at the clock hanging above the ornate fireplace, “Should have finished half an hour ago.” There was an unhappy energy that moved under her skin, like she was upset that she wasn’t involved in the meeting. “I placed a reservation for us at the restaurant for 1PM.”

The more involved the groom was, the better he could build a theme centred on the couple. Speaking of which.

‘’I wanted to ask - do you already have a theme in mind?’’

‘’Roaring 20s,’’ Bellatrix linked her fingers together and rested her chin on top. ‘’Like in that muggle film, _The Great Gatsby_. My fiancé admires the 1920s, it’s like he was practically born in the decade.’’

Harry nodded and took out his little notebook. He made quick notes of it. So, vintage wedding, but very specific. He could already picture it: luxe centrepieces, champagne towers, and art-deco inspired décor of gold and black. Silver, maybe. Checkered floors, opulent chandeliers, performers in feathered accessories and beads. An on-site band playing groovy jazz covers of the latest hits, like that band, Postmodern Jukebox. Could they afford flying in Postmodern Jukebox? That would be brilliant.

‘’How much are you both looking to spend for the whole wedding?’’

She tapped a finger on her lips, thinking it over for a second.

‘’He and I agreed, no more than fifty.’’

Harry nodded, writing the figure down. ‘’Understood, so fifty hundred galleons.’’

She looked at him blankly, then her wild eyes regarded him with amused pleasure, like Harry was a funny new pet.

‘’No, dearie. Fifty _thousand_.’’

Harry felt a bit ill.

Yeah, they could definitely afford Postmodern Jukebox. He knew one of the frequent singers was a squib.

‘’Very well,’’ he said calmly. What the hell was he supposed to do with fifty thousand galleons? Put edible 24k gold on the appetisers? He continued, acting like he wasn’t way over his head, “What do you think of doing away with a gold and silver-themed wedding?”

“Good thinking, I was picturing more blue and black.” Her eyes twinkled, reminding him of Crookshanks whenever he chased rats. He didn’t want to know how that colour combination crossed her mind.

“Weddings usually reflect character. Tell me, what does your fiancé usually describe you as?”

“Loyal, fierce, and unbridled,” she said a little breathlessly, glossy eyed like she was remembering a deeply treasured moment.

“Let’s go daring, unorthodox. As you’re both going for a Great Gatsby theme, how about black and gold?” He suggested something so simple as if Harry cracked the code on weddings, yet she responded well.

"Ooh, lovely!" An excited squawk erupted from Bellatrix and she regarded Harry with mildly impressed eyes. "Now I'm glad I chose you, Harry. My fiancé was quite adamant on going for a more... established wedding planner you see, someone traditional who's familiar with our type of crowd'' - Sirius' warning about blood purity flashed through his head - ''but it's like you've used a Legillimens on me. I can tell you'll be very useful.”

The praise made him feel slightly surer of himself.

Bellatrix glanced at the clock again, “It’s almost time. Come, come, let’s best head on and wait for him there.”

They ascended the ebony marble staircase and arrived at the entrance to the hotel restaurant, the doors manned on either side by two burly men in ivory coloured suits. An elf popped up before them, holding a clipboard.

“Good afternoon, ma’am’s and sirs. Do you has a reservation?”

“We do,” Bellatrix stepped forward. “Black. 1PM.”

The elf’s gaze quickly darted downwards the clipboard, “Yes, yes indeed, Missus Bellatrix Black. Party of three. One of ‘em just arrived a minute before you, ma’am.”

The two men guarding moved to hover their exposed wrists across a rectangular rocky slab on the door. A clicking noise could be heard, then they opened the doors and stepped aside to allow Bellatrix and Harry to enter.

“If you would follow me, I’ll guide you to your table,” said the elf.

Compared to The Three Broomsticks, or really anywhere else Harry had ever eaten at, the restaurant looked incredibly decadent. It was exactly the kind of place purebloods like Bellatrix would frequent. Her fiancé must be one of them, too.

Just like in the lobby, they were immediately offered refreshments, which Harry declined and she accepted.

"Oh!" Her eyes went wide when something caught her attention, and she nearly spilled the contents of her champagne flute in excitement. Awe and adoration oozed off her in thick waves. "Harry, meet my fiancé.”

The man in question was seated but he hadn’t noticed them yet, his back was turned to them while he was deep in conversation with a young man with straw blond hair. Harry was briefly distracted by a flash of gold to his left, the chandelier lighting reflecting off a woman’s bright cocktail dress as she tipped her head backwards to laugh at something her date said.

He really needed to work on his easy tendency to get attracted to gold. If he kept this up he was going to be no worse than a Niffler. Merlin, Lily really got her habit from him. There was the sound of a chair moving back.

"Apologies. The meeting took a while," said a smooth, rich voice and Harry immediately stiffened, only distantly aware of how his breathing hitched and how cold his hands suddenly became, like he dipped them in ice water. "Lucius had me reviewing my speech.’’

Harry turned his head with a tight smile. Merlin, he _hoped_ that whatever was happening with his face was a smile and not the honest-to-god freak out he was having internally. Harry breathed in sharply at the sight of him.

Tom Marvolo Riddle looked exactly like the last time Harry saw him, as though he gracefully walked out of someone's bodice ripper fantasy on Witch Weekly. That is, if someone was obsessed with stupidly handsome purebloods summoned from the deepest, well-dressed pit of hell. Tom was probably the devil that ruled that circle, too.

Dark hair and darker eyes, his hair tamed smoothly except for the stray curls that hung over his forehead. He was aristocratic not just in his features, with those high cheekbones, lush mouth, and commanding gaze, but also in the way he carried himself. There was no denying the pureblood influence in his DNA.

Tom’s was a handsome face, an open and intelligent face, but Harry knew better. The man’s obsidian eyes regarded Bellatrix before it latched on to Harry with a burning intensity that had his hair raising on his arms.

Harry felt something - thousands of years of evolutionary instinct, perhaps - warning him that if he followed the desire to flee now, to run from the hotel and never look back, something was going to follow. Relentlessly, like a snake on the chase.

As if Harry’s body was on auto-pilot, he offered his hand first. _Make the first move, don’t look stupid_ , he thought.

''Pleased to meet you,’’ he said. ‘’I’m Harry Potter.’’

Tom flashed him that oh so familiar disarming smile and shook his hand, ''Tom Riddle. The pleasure is mine.’’ Good, he was playing along.

When their hands touched, Harry felt an electric jolt travel and spread across his nervous system like map lines. _Get a hold of yourself_. Fuck, how long has it been since he last saw him? Twelve years. Yet seeing him again made it feel as though their last argument was only yesterday. When Harry had broken off their relationship and told Tom he never wanted to see his face again.

_Tom stared at the injury on Harry’s head with utter devastation, his voice like broken things, ‘’Harry, I never meant to– ‘’_

_''I can’t look at you right now, Tom.’’_

The scar on his forehead tickled with a phantom pain. At the same time, dark eyes flickered to look at it, but the man’s expression stayed neutral. The other guy with the straw blond hair excused himself and left them. There was something familiar about him, but Harry couldn't remember.

''My dear Bella,’’ Tom kissed her cheek and she practically melted into goo. ''Please, take a seat.’’

Harry took the chair opposite them, and when he passed by where Tom stood, he could faintly detect the spicy scent of cinnamon and dark chocolate. His stomach churned. There were one too many sensory memories for his liking.

If there was any indication of Tom feeling bothered by the turn of events, it didn’t show on his collected face. He sat next to Bellatrix, unfazed by Harry’s presence and so put-together it was almost mechanical.

 _What the hell is happening? I swear, if this is your doing-_ Harry channelled his mental energy to project that message straight at Tom, even though he knew the other man couldn’t hear what he was thinking. Harry's occlumency wards were strong enough.

Briefly, Tom's lips pressed into a tight line before Bellatrix placed a sharp-nailed hand over Tom's, stroking it in glee.

''I was just talking to our new wedding planner about the colours we'll be having. We were thinking either black and gold, or blue and black.”

 _Like what Tom's face will be once I'm through with him_ , he thought. A waiter filled his glass with water and Harry gulped it down while Bellatrix kept talking at Tom.

“Harry,” she said. “If you’re not already familiar, Tom has recently joined wizarding politics.’’

''I’m merely an assistant budget analyst in the ministry,’’ he said modestly. ''However, a manifesto has been in the works for a while now.''

Oh, Tom was involved with wizarding politics for sure. But as Voldemort, campaigning his ridiculous agenda. How many nights had Harry spent listening to Tom's quill scratch as he worked on his manifesto?

''Have you two ever met? In Hogwarts.''

_Yes! Tom and I dated! We slept together! Does she know? Did Tom tell her? Was this all a trap to lure me in and-_

''Not really. We ran in different circles," Harry said casually.

Not far from the truth. When they weren’t together, Harry spent his time with Ron, Hermione, and his friends from other houses. All though perfect prefect Tom was loved by the whole school, his own circle of friends was limited to a few Slytherin purebloods. ‘Circle of followers’ might be the better phrase.

“How did you two meet?”

Bellatrix answered, “We met through mutual acquaintances.’’

Tom made an affirmative hum.

Harry glanced in Tom's direction and caught him giving him a calm look. Calm in the way swamp water was - a flat, black surface that had something dangerous swimming beneath. It should have made Harry quickly divert his gaze away, but he kept his own gaze level.

It was one of those unnervingly intense things about Tom that he tended to do whenever he was around Harry. The kind of creepy behaviour that weirded out Sirius and his friends.

_''Is everything alright at the pub?'' Sirius had fire-called during Harry's night shift at Moonshine._

_''Yep, why? Are you okay?''_

_''I'm fine,'' Sirius assured him. ''I just heard a few complaints from the regulars. Apparently, there's been someone lurking nearby for the past week, but he only comes around during your shift. I just wanted to make sure you're okay-''_

_Harry snapped his head to peer out the window and into the dark, pouring summer rain._

_Standing there all motionless and calm from across the street, staring intently under his umbrella at Harry like the gigantic creeper he was, was his boyfriend Tom._

_It would have looked even creepier if he wasn't dressed so well._

He was pretty sure Tom Riddle was the reason the _protego_ charm existed.

Was there ever an off-switch for that creepiness?

“Monsieur Riddle! Madam Black told me you’ll be coming today. How was France?”

There was. To everyone else, Tom was charming. He could melt the defences off someone with his saccharine words and handsome face. When Harry’s own friends first spoke with Tom, they found him to be the most beautiful, well-read, and charismatic bloke in existence.

Exhibit A: Tom smiled graciously at the man approaching their table.

“France is as beautiful as ever, Monsieur Blanchard. I can see where the opulence that inspires your establishment comes from.” He must be the restaurant owner.

Damn this man’s tongue.

Harry couldn’t take it. He needed to breathe a little and regroup.

“Excuse me, I’m just going to the loo.”

He got up and went straight to the nearest washroom. Once there, he splashed some water from the sink onto his face and dried himself off.

A minute later, Tom followed suit.

Harry met the man’s dark eyes in the mirror with a glare.

‘’You’ve got a lot of _nerve_.’’

Fantastic start, Harry. You’re doing great.

Time for what his best friends called, ‘Tomarry: The Fight, Live on Eastend!’ Except it wasn’t the sequel. This was like the five hundredth instalment after a long hiatus.

“I wanted to have a word with you. In private.”

Tom closed the door behind him, locking it with a click and a silent wave of his hand. He casted an anti-eavesdropping barrier around them before backing Harry against the sinks and nearly getting into his personal space.

Harry wondered if this was how butterflies felt before they were pinned to a board. This close, Tom’s cinnamon and cocoa scent was stronger.

Tom continued, ''This turn was as much a surprise to me as I’m sure it was to you.’’

‘’How could you not know it was me?’’ Harry asked. ‘’I’m sure Bellatrix brought me up. Just how many Harry Potters do you think exist in Wizarding Britain? I’ll tell you: you’re looking at the one.’’

‘’If you think I purposely sought you out, you’re even more childish than I remembered. My time has been occupied with work. But, _oh_ , Harry. _.._ ’’ He said his name condescendingly, but to hear it again on his lips made Harry feel like a stupid twenty-year-old again. Shit. You’d have thought twelve years was enough to get over a five-year relationship. Anger bubbled up at the thought of it. He was thirty-four, not twenty, damn it.

‘’A wedding planner? I thought your ambitions went higher than that.’’

‘’I think I made myself clear the last time. Your ambitions will never be mine.’’

A dark look shadowed his handsome features before it quickly passed.

''We need to talk about your feelings, Harry,” he said. Huh _what?_ “I know very well how… emotional you get.” Like _Harry_ was going to embarrassment them in public. Like _Harry_ was the only weirdo between the two of them. He sputtered, indignant, as Tom kept going, “I don’t want any old feelings of yours to resurface. It would be unprofessional, not to mention inappropriate. If you can't keep our... past out of my engagement, I will need to fire you.''

Harry’s metaphysical form ascended him to _scream_.

“Look, _pal_ ,” he stepped closer and pointed a finger at Tom’s face, who blinked at the nickname. “You and me? That train’s long gone. I swear this is nothing but business, because we’re never-“ _ever getting back together_. Merlin, he almost yelled a Taylor Swift lyric at him. Instead, Harry flapped his hands together to suggest Ron-and-Hermione-lovey-dovey-ness, except he had a feeling he looked more like a graceless hippogriff.

“ _Ever_!''


End file.
